


Who's The Genius Now?

by da_petty



Series: The Amorous Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crack, Dream Sex, M/M, Not a work of art, Nothing Phases Mrs Hudson Anymore, Seriously this fic has no redeeming qualities at all, Sex Games, The Author Regrets Nothing, Try Locking The Damned Door For A Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: John and Sherlock play a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: The Amorous Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/988500
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	Who's The Genius Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Now available in Russian here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/9733133
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful translator, Zerbrechlich, for all of her hard work.
> 
> This was meant to be a short drabble but things got out of hand. I'm supposed to be finishing Dhamphir but, well, you know how I get.
> 
> Not beta'd, brit-picked, edited. Actually just wrote it here on AO3 for no good reason other than the idea of the boys playing Rock, Paper, Scissors amused the hell out of me.

"Uh. Well. This is...unexpected." Lestrade said, frozen in the entrance of John and Sherlock's flat. 

"You might consider locking the door if you're going to do something like...that." Lestrade said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of where John and Sherlock currently sat, nude, on the rug in front of a roaring fire.

"You might consider knocking," Sherlock said imperiously, as he and John continued shaking their fists up and down.

"It IS a business, you know. Wouldn't want to keep clients from requesting our assistance. DAMMIT, JOHN!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I can't help it that you don't understand how this works," John said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Three out of five!" Sherlock said, and began shaking his fist again without waiting for an answer.

"Ok, but you're just going to keep losing," John said with a condescending smile.

"Not this time! Go!"

"Um...just out of curiosity, could you tell me what you're doing?" Lestrade asked.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors," John said without looking up.

"And you keep winning?" Lestrade asked.

"He's cheating somehow! I just haven't caught him at it yet!"

"I am not cheating, Sherlock. You're just god awful at this game. HAH! Paper beats rock!" John exclaimed, putting his hand over Sherlock's fist.

"Goddammit! There are still two more to go!" Sherlock exclaimed, shocking Lestrade. Sherlock rarely cursed.

"Fine but this is the last extension. I'm not doing five out of seven. When you lose this time. It's over and you pay what you owe.”

"I won't be losing! This is a stupid game but it's not random. I just haven't figured out your pattern yet."

"Uh huh. GO!" John said, and both started shaking their fists again.

Ok, Sherlock. Scissors beats paper. You loose," John said. "Now, pay up," he said with a wicked grin.

"Out of curiosity, what did Sherlock just lose?" Lestrade asked, just then noticing the bottle of lube sitting on the coffee table. Given the fact that they were both naked...he was positive that he didn't want to know.

"You know what? None of my business. I'll just be going now," Lestrade said, doorknob in hand as he slowly backed away.

"Oh. We play this all the time and Sherlock always loses, don't you, Sherlock," John said, smirking.

"Because you cheat! Why do I always have to be the bottom?!" Sherlock whined.

"Because you keep losing. Stop asking to play to be the top and maybe I'll allow it...eventually," John said smugly.

"You're not going to get me to give up that easily!" Sherlock said, exasperated.

"Ok. Enjoy being the bottom then," John smiled, reaching for the lube.

They were both startled by the sound of a door slamming following by rapidly retreating footsteps down the stairs and another slam of 221B's front door.

John and Sherlock looked at each other and smiled.

"Forgot he was still there," Sherlock said.

"Me too," John smiled.

"I wish you'd stop smiling so much. It's grating on my nerves!"

"Well, you know what to do," John said, patting the coffee table.

"The coffee table? Again? My hips are still bruised from the last time," Sherlock complained.

"You must like it because you keep losing," John said, trying but failing to suppress another smile. He patted the coffee table.

"Ok. You know what to do. Bend over," John said, applying a generous amount of lube to his fingers.

"Fine," Sherlock said, getting into position. "OW! You could give a person a minute!"

"Sorry," John said, already two fingers deep in Sherlock.

"I know you're smiling back there, John!"

"Am not," John said, smiling as he began to slowly slide his fingers in and out of Sherlock's hole.

"Just...oh...a little...that's nice...warning would be good the next time," Sherlock said halfheartedly, ending on a sigh.

"Boys!" Mrs Hudson called as she climbed the step to their flat.

"Not now, Mrs Hudson!" John and Sherlock called out in unison but she'd already opened the door and stood looking at them, plate of biscuits in hand.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, again? Sherlock, you never win at this game," Mrs Hudson tskd.

"Get...ahhh...GET OUT!" Sherlock yelled.

"Fine. I'll just leave these over here. I'm sure you'll be hungry afterwards," Mrs Hudson said, walking into the room and setting the plate down on the coffee table next to where Sherlock's head now hung. He was panting desperately, sweat causing his curls to arrange themselves in adorable patterns on his forehead.

"Would you mind putting those on the kitchen table, Mrs Hudson?" John asked without a pause in fingering Sherlock.

"Oh. Right. Not very sanitary. Sorry, dear." Mrs Hudson said, bustling over the table and setting the biscuits down. She made it to the front door to the flat, pausing on the threshold.

"What would you like for tomorrow's game, John?"

"Hmm..." John paused fucking Sherlock with his fingers to ponder the question.

"JOHN!" Sherlock panted.

"Just a minute, love," John said with a condescending pat to Sherlock's plump backside with his clean hand.

Glancing at Sherlock's current position, John grinned, and said, "Oh. I know. Tarts!" He said smacking Sherlock's arse.

***

Sherlock didn't win the following night, or the next…he never won, not even once. John knew that Sherlock was throwing the game but never said a word. He was more than happy to have that sweet arse bent over various items in the flat and never said a word. And Sherlock? Well, he just let John enjoy the fantasy that he was getting one over on Sherlock. 

Sherlock took his pounding with pleasure, and smiled…visions of biscuits dancing in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> This one's just for fun.
> 
> Please Note: This is a dream sequence. Forgot to put that in there earlier. My bad.


End file.
